


New Memories

by fearlessdixon



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 19:34:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fearlessdixon/pseuds/fearlessdixon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl was always a loner. He preferred to be in the woods, crossbow in hand. Then she came into his life. Now, he yearns to feel her touch, feel her presence, hear her voice. He needed her and he would do anything to keep her safe. Set after season 3 finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Discovery

Snow fell all around the thirty-five year old. He squinted his eyes at the ground as he followed the trail of a buck. There were no sounds of walkers around him. They seemed to go into some kind of hibernation during the cold winter months. Daryl allowed his mind to wander as he enjoyed the silence. It had been a year and a half since the world went to shit. He had lost his brother several months ago to some douche bag that called himself “The Governor”. His brother had gone down fighting, however. Daryl had found his brother not too long after he had turned. The youngest Dixon brother fell to his knees, sobs wreaking his body. Merle was crouched over what used to be The Governor. Even undead, his older brother had gotten the revenge he was originally seeking out.  
He wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his newly found Carhartt. He was tempted to shed the thick jacket but with the temperature being so low, it was a risk he didn’t want to take. Ahead of him, the buck he had been tracking all day walked out from behind a bush. Daryl silently crouched down low and raised his crossbow. He slowly released his breath and fired the arrow flawlessly. The bright orange arrow sailed through the air and hit the deer directly in the eye. The hunter shouldered his bow and walked over to collect his prize. When he was fifty yards away, he stumbled over something. Startled, he turned and saw the small, partly covered figure lying in the snow.  
He saw no visible bits as he bent down and searched for a pulse. There was a slight thumping beneath his two strong fingers. He sucked in a breath, shocked. Daryl did a thorough search for walker bites by patting her clothing, feeling for any blood soaked spots. He found only cuts most likely caused by her hike through the woods. Before he could second guess himself, he lifted the small body and moved as fast as possible back to the prison. On the way, he studied the woman in his arms. Her face was covered in splotches of blood and dirt that he was sure he was covered in also.  
She had long, chestnut brown hair that was caked in mud and ice. Her features were soft and kind. Daryl guessed her to be no older than twenty. After jogging the short distance back to the prison, Daryl finally approached the tall gates. Carl was keeping watch and pulled the gate open in alarm at the sight of Daryl rushing over. The older man didn’t say anything as he rushed through.  
Hershel sat at his desk with his head in a book as Daryl burst through the door. He lifted his wrinkled head and set down the thick pages. “Put her on the bed,” he said calmly. Daryl crossed the small white room and placed her body gently on a bed. Hershel stood, taking a moment to adjust to the change in elevation and began to take slow steps over to the bed as his body loosed up.  
Daryl collapsed onto the chair beside the bed, breathless, and waited for Hershel to make his way over. It took him several moments to calm the pounding of his heart in his ears. “I found her in the woods. Jus’ bout tripped o’r her. Damn thing looked jus’ ‘bout dead,” Daryl explained, his deep accent never faltering.  
“It’s a good thing you found her when you did,” Hershel told the young man as he placed heavy blanket after heavy blanket over her body. “She would have died within the hour from hypothermia.” The veterinarian started an IV in her right wrist and connected the long tube to a warm fluid drip he had hanging from a bar beside him. 

Over the next few days, Daryl would frequently visit the infirmary to see if she had awakened. He didn’t trust her. Why was she so close to the prison? Was she with the Governor? Did she have a group of her own? His mind filled with questions that he wanted to ask her.  
She looked much better than she had before. Her skin was naturally tan and her cheeks seemed to always have a small blush across them. After word had spread that there was a strange girl in the infirmary, several members of the community came by. Carol and Beth were the most frequent. They had washed her body, minding the area that was covered in tape to hold a needle in her arm. The two women washed her hair, removing the dirt and blood that coated it.  
The day she opened her eyes, it was just Daryl in the room. Everyone else was in the cafeteria enjoying the remainder of the buck he had hunted. He sat on the chair beside her bed cleaning the bow he had found draped over her shoulder. He was so focused on what he was doing that he didn’t even realize she had awoken from her brief coma.  
“Wh –,” she croaked, her throat dry. She coughed before attempting to speak again. Daryl lifted his head and met her gaze. He placed the bow on the floor and handed her the cup of water that sat on the table beside him. She sipped it weakly.  
After a few moments, she began to study the room. She looked down at her body, her eyes widening to large orbs when she spotted the IV in her hand. Fear and pain filled her face. “Dos’ it hurt?” Daryl asked her, ready to get Hershel. The brunette shook her head slightly. “Hate needles?” he offered, understanding that she couldn’t speak. She nodded, resting her head back down and closing her eyes.  
He stood when he realized she had fallen back asleep. Daryl left the room quietly and returned with Hershel behind him. The white haired man ushered him back out of the doorway and closed it behind him to give the girl privacy. Daryl stood in the concrete hallway shocked at the old man’s boldness. He rolled his eyes and slid to the floor, getting comfortable. There was no way he was leaving a helpless elder alone with a stranger. At the first sounds of trouble, he would in there.

It took another twenty-four hours before the stranger got her voice back. Daryl guarded her the entire time still not able to trust her. It was late in the afternoon and Hershel was out at the garden helping Rick. Daryl sat on the chair again, his time he was cleaning his own crossbow.  
“Where the hell am I?” a hoarse voice drawled with an accent thicker than Daryl’s. “Who the fuck ar’ you?” she glared at him, scooting as far away as the small bed would allow. She pulled her legs tightly to her small torso.  
The man beside her was slightly taken aback by her bold language. He cocked one eyebrow as he set the weapon down on her lap. “I found you in the woods. Brought you back ‘ere to fix ya up. Thought you was dead,” he explained.  
She glanced around the room as everything began to sink in. Judging by her expression, she had forgotten about waking up the previous day. “Thank you,” her deep brown eyes met his brilliant blues. “But you still didn’t answer my question.”  
“Daryl,” he said simply. “You?”  
“Don’t matter.”  
Daryl rolled his eyes at her attempt to come off as tough. He could see the fear in her eyes as she continued to study him. He grabbed the walkie talkie clipped to his belt. “Rick,” he said then released the button and waited.  
“Yeah?” a deep, filtered voice answered.  
“She’s awake,” he replied. The girl’s eyes widened even more and her mouth formed a tight line as he spoke. 

“If you don’t answer my questions, then we will have to ask you to leave,” Rick said, staring down at the woman. He rubbed his temples in attempt to release his intense headache. He waited for her to answer. After a minute, he sighed, turning to Daryl beside him. “Take her to-“ the man was cut off as the brunette spoke at last.  
“My name’s Lace,” she said through gritted teeth. Rick sat down across the table from her. They sat in one of the questioning rooms just down the hall from the infirmary. She had a few stitches in her forehead but was keeping down her food so Hershel gave her the ok to leave the bed as long as she didn’t over do it.  
“How many walkers have you killed?” he asked her, beginning his three questions.  
“I lost count,” she answered, allowing herself to take a few deep breaths.  
“How many people have you killed?”  
Lace sucked in a quick breath when he asked his second question. Her hands began to shake as the memory replayed in her head. “Two,” she whispered, barely audible. A stray tear fell down her flushed cheek, leaving a shiny wet trail behind.  
“Why?” Rick asked calmly, afraid of the answer.  
“My mother, father, and I were camped out about a year ago when our camp was overrun by a herd of biters. I had climbed up a tree to sleep because we only had two sleeping bags. I woke up in the middle of the night to find my parents both fighting off about twenty biters. My dad told me to stay put. There were just too many and both of my parents were bitten. They had killed all but three. My dad got up; half of his arm covered in blood, and killed the remanding. I put my knife in each of their heads before they turned,” Lace explained, trying to swallow the large lump that had formed in her throat. She tried with all of her might but she felt her heart break all over again. For the first time since her parents had passed, she gave up the fight and sobs rocked her body.


	2. New Beginnings

The faint pounding of rain pulled the girl from her sleep. She rubbed her eyes with her middle fingers and let out a groan as her right shoulder muscle protested. Must have slept on it wrong, she thought to herself. Lace sat up on her bed, rubbing her sore muscle with her hand. As she massaged the area, she remembered what had happened the day before.  
Rick placed a large but gentle hand on the crying girl’s shoulder. She tensed at his touch but never lifted her head from her hands. He knelt beside her chair. “You are welcome to stay as long as you’d like,” he told her in a quiet voice once her sobs had calmed to small hiccups. He wanted to ask her more questions but knew he shouldn’t push right now. She reminded him a lot of Daryl. Both didn’t like being touched and had quite the mouth on them. He had a good feeling about the girl.  
He stood and removed his hand, turning to Daryl. “Stay with her. When she is ready, take her to an empty cell. Maybe Beth will have extra clothes she can change into,” he said, figuring the two girls were very close in size. The younger man nodded and moved to lean against the wall, his crossbow rested at his side and a cigarette dangling from his lips. When Rick exited, Daryl took out his lighter and lit the paper. He took a deep breath, holding it as long as he could before exhaling. His nerves began to calm down as the nicotine filled his body. Lace’s head shot up at the familiar smell.  
Her eyes held a fire of need that Daryl recognized easily and smirked. “So that’s why you been all bitchy since you woke up,” he grumbled teasingly.  
“Gi’me one asshole,” she demanded, not finding his teasing amusing. She stood and stalked over to the leaning man. He shook his head and she groaned inwardly. “Please gi’me one asshole,” she corrected herself, a smirk that mirrored Daryl’s played on her lips.  
Silently, he held out his opened pack to her. She took one of the long white cigarettes and placed it in between her lips, lighting it expertly, and took a long drag. She sighed and leaned against the wall beside the tall man. They stood in silence until they both finished. 

Lace stood and pulled on a pair of blue jeans and a shirt. Both belonged to Beth who was kind enough to lend them to her. The jeans fit almost perfectly but the shirt hung loose over her torso. Out of habit, she felt for her knife that as sheathed on her belt and her gun that was tucked tightly in her waistband.  
The cell block was deserted when she exited her cell. Through the small windows she could see the sun shining outside. Pulling on her black coat, she bound down the stairs and headed outside. She breathed in the fresh air and sighed. Looking around the prison yard, she spotted Rick bent over a row of green plants.  
“Mornin’,” he greeted her as she got within earshot. She gave him a smile and placed her sunglasses on her nose to shield her eyes from the harsh morning sunlight.  
“Daryl ‘round?” she asked, searching the yard for the familiar dark brown hair. She spotted Michonne walking the fence line, Carl by her side talking away. When Lace didn’t see Daryl she turned her attention back to Rick who was holding a shovel and leaning into it slightly. A thin layer of sweat glistened in the sunlight on his forehead and neck. He wiped at it with his sleeve and rubbed his graying beard.  
He nodded his head towards the north guard tower. “He’s been on guard duty all night. Think he might have fallen asleep,” Rick chuckled and went back to digging up a large rock stuck in the Georgia soil. Lace thanked him before making her way over to the tower.  
It was much warmer in the stairway up to the top of the tower than it had been outside with the wind blowing. The brunette removed her gloves as she climbed the dark stairs silently. At the top, sunlight lit up the small room encircled with windows. Just like Rick had said, Daryl sat on an office chair with his feet propped up onto a counter than ran the length of three out of four walls. He wore a hat that was tilted to cover his eyes, his arms crossed, and soft snores left his open lips.  
Lace slowly walked over the sleeping form and lifted his hat from his head. The sudden change in light woke him up with a start. Because of his fast movement, the office chair rolled out from underneath him, sending him to the floor. A loud string of curses left his mouth, each word laced with his southern drawl.  
Daryl looked up at Lace from the floor, his brilliant blue eyes meeting her dark brown ones. He fell back, laying flat against the floor and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. A wide yawn stretched his lips as he got to his feet. “What time is it?” he asked groggily, running a hand through his shaggy hair.  
“Midmorning,” she said sitting down on the other office chair. She rolled to the window and looked out through the thick glass. From the tower, there was a perfect view of the woods that surrounded the prison. The bare trees allowed her to see for miles. Snow began to flutter down to the Earth below, and in no time would have covered the small spots where the grass was beginning to poke through the old layer of snow. Lace’s eyes wondered over the yard, landing on Rick who was chopping at the ground. “Isn’t it a little early in the year to be farming?” she asked, not taking her eyes off of the man working.  
“You’d think. He’s determined to plant year round. Did you know there’re such things as winter vegetables?” he asked, walking up to her side.  
“Huh, never would ‘a thought o’ that one,” she replied leaning back into the black cloth covered chair. A sudden chill ran through her body causing her to shiver. Daryl pulled his pack of Marlboros out of his back pocket, placing one between his lips before offering one to the brunette. “Thanks,” she gave him a kind smile as he lit both cigarettes. He gave her a nod before sitting on the other chair.  
“So where you from?” he asked gruffly.  
“A small town north o’ ‘ere called Nelson. What ‘bout you?” she asked taking a long drag.  
“Florida,” he answered simply, not supplying her with any details. They sat in the guard house for several hours asking each other questions. Lace noticed that Daryl would always become grumpy whenever she asked about his family or childhood so she steered clear of those kinds of questions. The two survivors were suddenly reminded of the time when Glenn and Maggie came bounding up the stairs to take watch for the night.  
Daryl and Lace walked out of the guard tower and headed up to the prison, huddled in their coats as the snow and wind picked up creating a white curtain in front of them. They quickened their pace, rushing into the cover of the prison. Lace let out a loud laugh as Daryl slipped on a spot of ice on the concrete, falling onto his backend. The man quickly stood up, his face a light shade of pink. The sight of the blushing man fueled her laughter even more, tears rolling down her cold cheeks. They continued their walk and were just about to the door when Lace slipped as well, landing on back instead. She rolled to her side, the laughter from her body never seizing. Daryl joined in as he watched the girl clutch her stomach on the ground. He helped her to her feet and they entered the prison with wet faces and large smiles on their faces.

 

Lace grunted loudly as she drove her long knife into the skull of a walker. The bone caved in around her knife and the body became limp as it fell to the ground. Sickeningly dark blood splattered onto her gloved hand as she placed a boot on its back and pulled her weapon from the rotting corpse. She wiped the guts onto her jean clad leg and continued onto the next staggering form coming towards her. Within a few minutes three other walkers were given the same fate as the first.  
The brunette slid her knife back into the sheath and turned toward Daryl who leaned against a tree, his arms crossed. A look of content settled on his face. Through the overhead canopy, the early morning sun finally managed to peak through. Lace lifted her head towards the sky and sighed as the warmth took the chill from her cheeks. The man chuckled at the innocent girl.  
“Come  
“Let’s get a move on, darlin’. Don’t wanna make the folks wait,” he said pushed off of the tree and started the hike back to the prison. Lace grumbled behind him but followed. As she walked, the squirrels that hung from her waist swayed. Between the two hunters they were able to kill close to fifteen animals. Most were squirrels but Daryl had a few raccoons and possums hanging from his own waist. The group would be eating well for the next several nights. Just the thought made Lace’s mouth water.  
She was glad that Daryl had invited her to accompany him on his hunting trip. Slowly but surely everyone was warming up to her. The night before, Lace had volunteered to cover guard duty. Though it was a small deed, she felt that it would show them that she truly cared about the safety of the people living there and appreciated them taking her in.  
After trying several times over the past few days to start a conversation with Daryl she had given up. Oddly enough, the day before he had finally initiated a discussion. Don’t question it, just accept it, she had told herself and smiled at the man who was telling her about his job before the apocalypse.  
The brunette quickened her pace and fell into step with Daryl. “So why a crossbow?” she asked, knowing the silly question would make him smile. Just as she predicted, a wide grin played on his lips and a chuckled rumbled from his throat.  
“Why not? I mean it’s badass an’ the chicks dig it,” he said lightly and winked at her. She chuckled and punched his shoulder lightly. “So what did you do before?”  
Lace was quiet for a second. “I had just graduated from college with my pre-vet,” she said simply.  
Daryl looked down at her; confusion filled his blue eyes as they met her chocolate ones. “How old are you?” he asked, stopping and facing her. He lifted the crossbow and positioned it on his back so each hand was free from the bulky bow.  
“Twenty-two when everything happened. I’m guessing twenty-five?” she tried to answer, her eyebrows knitted together as she thought hard. With a sigh she threw her hands as she gave up and continued walking. Daryl caught up to her easily and was quiet.  
“Hershel was a vet ‘fore the world went t’ shit,” the man offered. He watched as her face lit up and her pace quickened.  
“Race ya!” she yelled breaking into a sprint. Daryl chuckled before racing after her. His endurance verses her speed. Snow crunched under their boots as they neared the prison. Laughter filed the air around them. Glenn, who was on guard duty, watched them curiously. Had it not been for their laughter, he would have thought they were running from something or someone.  
At the two hunters ran through the gate, Daryl barreled ahead. Lace, determined to win, jumped on his back and wrapped her legs around his waist. The sudden impact sent the man stumbling but he righted himself. The young woman took his hat from his head and placed it on her own head, giggling. Daryl held onto her legs to keep her from falling and walked into the cool prison. Their breathing was slowly returning to normal as he walked. Her breath was hot in his ear, sending chills down her spine.  
Lace jumped down after they walked through the cellblock door. Daryl reached for his hat but she danced out of the way, another giggle escaping her lips. “Nope. I’m keepin’ it,” she winked before jogging to the cafeteria to drop off the meat and help with the meal. Daryl watched her as she left. A hand grasped his shoulder from behind causing him to snap his gaze off of the woman.  
Rick stood slight behind him to the left. Daryl blushed violently. Rick chuckled and slapped his ‘brother’s’ back. “She’s somethin’ else ain’t she?” the bearded man spoke in a low voice. Daryl wanted to say something but instead he headed towards the kitchen like Lace had done.


	3. Memories

Lace sat on her bed, thick book in her hands. It was one of those typical trashy romance novels but it was better than being left alone with her thoughts. A cool draft whistled through the concrete enclosed building. The breeze blew against her bare arms leaving goose bumps in its wake. Lace felt as if her bones were shivering. She took this as a sign that it was time to get moving. The sun had began to peak through the tiny window in her cell. It would be several hours before the warmth would reach her. With a sigh, she pulled on her tattered black sweatshirt over the thin t-shirt she slept in the night before. Her belt buckled made a clinking sound as she tightened it. If it weren’t for the belt her pants slip to the floor easily.   
The brunette stuck her knife into its holder, her gun in the waistband of her blue jeans, and her hat on her head. Her weapons and hat were the only things on her body that were holding up. Her jeans had more holes than fabric. The boots on her feet were cracked and losing the sole. She looked like a homeless person. Yeah ‘cuz I am. We all are, she thought.  
She walked from her cell, eyes on the ground as she watched her boots. As she took each step, the heels of her brown boots would make that indescribable sound against the concrete floor. The sound reminded her of her ranch, her horses, and her parents…her home. She wanted to go back. To go back to the house where she grew up and try to find anything to remember her previous life by.   
Distracted and lost in the memories of her pre-walker life that were playing like a movie in her head, she walked without watching in front of her. Her life had seemed perfect. She had graduated from college, and was planning to open her own veterinary practice. The morning that the walkers had taken over her town, she was on her way to apply for a loan to make her dream of her own practice come true. The bank had been overrun by the time she pulled into the parking lot. Screams could be heard through the closed glass doors. It was the first time she had seen a walker in person and watched in shock from her car as it tore into a woman. The thing that used to be a person pulled out what must have been the small intestine and ate it like a noodle. Tearing her eyes from the sight in front of her, she threw up all over her passenger seat. Lace shuttered at the memory; it seemed like it had happened to a completely different person.   
She was pulled out of her thoughts when she slammed into a tall, muscular figure. The force pushed her back forcefully causing a squeal to escape her pink lips. She waited for a sharp pain to run up her spine and make her lose her breath.   
Strong arms wrapped around her small petite waist. Her eyes shot open, fear pumping through her veins. Before she could full the knife out of its holster her eyes met a familiar set of crystal blue irises. Her body relaxed instantly as he spoke. “What’s gotten int’ a ya?” his deep voice asked.   
Lace cleared her throat, finder her voice. “Jus’ thinkin about going on a run for some clothes. These are fallin’ apart an’ I’m freezin’ my ass off,” she half lied. She did want to go in search of some clothes but it wasn’t why she wasn’t paying attention. Daryl nodded but knew by the look on her face that she wasn’t telling the truth.  
“I’ll go with ya,” Daryl offered. “’Sides, lil asskicker as jus about outgrown all hers too.” Daryl let go of her waist and let his hands fall to his sides awkwardly. They walked silently beside one another. The only noise was the sound of their footsteps echoing throughout the dimly lit hallway.  
Three weeks had passed since she had woken up in the prison. Slowly, she had been gaining back her strength. She owned her progress to Daryl. Every day as the sun reached its peak in the sky, they would meet by the fence in the far corner of the prison yard. Lace never knew what to expect. One day Daryl would make her run lap after lap around the perimeter of the prison yard. Others, when he was grumpy, she would have to do hundreds of pushups and sit-ups. After she had completed her task, he would teach her. Over time she had learned to track someone, hunt, use his crossbow, and most importantly: to use her knife. Together, all of these lessons would be the difference between life and death.  
The two survivors walked into the cafeteria. The room was filled with the sound of laughter and high spirit as they ate fruit from the garden and squirrel that Lace and Daryl had hunted together.  
Beth pulled Lace into a bear hug. She pulled away, smiling. “What was that for?” Lace asked chuckling at the teenager’s enthusiasm.   
“For what you did for Judith last night. It meant a lot,” she explained.   
Daryl raised an eyebrow at the brunette who was blushing like mad. “Don’t you dare, Dixon,” she said without even looking up at the man. “It really was no problem Beth. I’d do anythin’ for you girls.” Lace kissed the toddler perched on Beth’s hip and walked to get a plate of food. She shuffled from one foot to another as she filled her plate.  
Last night…  
Lace walked down the row of cells on either side of her. She walked quickly as she set her eyes on her makeshift door made of a pink beach towel that she had found while searching a house for food. Her eyes were heavy and threatened to close on her.   
She pushed the towel aside and stepped into her ‘room’.   
“Oh thank god you’re back,” a voice exclaimed, startling the sleepy brunette. She let out a little squeak as she jumped. She glared at Beth, who stood before her, Jude rested on her hip. The little girl screamed her face red and splotchy.  
“What’s wrong?” Lace asked, no longer sleepy. She wondered how she hadn’t heard the loud screams coming from the small child when she had first entered the block. She must have been more tired than she thought.  
Beth handed the little girl to Lace. She looked so much like Rick that it took her breath away. She was going to grow up to be a gorgeous girl. Lace took Judith and immediately understood why Beth was so nervous. Jude was warm to the touch. Too warm. Without a word, Lace rushed the little girl to the infirmary, Beth followed close behind.  
Lace had become Hershel’s right hand woman. Having received her veterinary degree just before the walkers took over, he trusted her knowledge. They took turns being “on call”. Tonight was Lace’s turn.   
The poor girl, Lace discovered, had a severe ear infection. It was an easy fix and Jude would be crawling around in a day or two.   
After a few hours and intravenous antibiotics Jude’s fever had broken and she was sound asleep. The vet turned doctor said a quick goodnight to the teenager and child before finally retiring to her bed that eagerly awaited her arrival.   
Lace sat down between Rick and Daryl. She stuffed her mouth with a large bite before speaking. “I wanna…” she stopped and swallowed before continuing. “I want ta go an’ get some new clothes. Winter’s not over yet but my clothes ain’t gunna make it.”  
Rick nodded in understanding. Her jeans barely fit on her hips. As she walked, he could see her constantly stopping to pull them up. He had offered her his belt but it only seemed to help a little. “As long as you take someone with you, I don’t have any reservations. The walkers will be hungry and their senses will be heightened. If you get backed into a corner, there is no way you could fight off a large herd.” Several days ago, Glenn and Maggie had gone to a nearby small town to pick up a few supplies. After knocking over a vase, the sound of glass shattering echoed throughout the house and the bordering neighborhood. The newlyweds just made it to the car when a herd of more than 40 walkers surrounded the small Hyundai that had once belonged to some guy named Shane. Daryl had told her about it vaguely while she was asking about how they each joined the group.   
“We’ll leave in an hour. If anyone needs anything clothing wise, add it to this list before we leave,” Daryl announced to the cafeteria as he placed a sheet of scrap paper on the table before them. The men and women in the room didn’t hesitate before rushing over to the list to write down what they wanted. Daryl watched the scene with his arms crossed and no expression on his face as usual.  
After a few minutes, everyone filed out of the dining area except the original group and Lace. The sight of the Korea native laughing soundlessly made them stop and stare. Glenn’s face was as red as a tomato and tears fell down his cheeks. The group watched his until he calmed down enough to explain his outburst.  
“I hope you two never have kids,” Glenn said pointing to Daryl and Lace before continuing. “They are going to be laughing one minute then hating the world the next.” He managed to get out the last sentence before falling to the floor in hysteria. Lace looked up at Daryl with an eyebrow arched. He was bound to crack sooner or later, she thought shaking her head.


	4. Returning Home

The unusually cold Georgia weather still kept a firm grasp on Mother Nature. Lace shivered in her sweatshirt and pulled the fabric tighter around her small frame. She put the cap onto the gas canister before placing it in the trunk. All around her the community went about their everyday routines.  
Lace walked over to the hood of the truck where Rick and Daryl were bent over a map. The map was covered in red x’s that marked the towns they had picked clean. Over time, the group had been forced to travel farther and farther away to find food. The next town was over two hours away. She eyed a familiar town to the north of Atlanta and placed a finger on the map where the small town’s name was typed in bold letters.  
Daryl and Rick looked up from the map to her, Daryl raising an eyebrow in question. “Nelson?” the long haired man asked.  
“It’s my hometown. My house-,” Lace coughed, clearing her throat. “My old house had a basement where my mom used t’ can food and my daddy stored his guns.”  
“To Nelson it is,” Rick said with a clap of his hands. He folded the map and dropped it on the passenger seat through the cracked window. “Make sure to take plenty of gas. Its gunna be a long trip.” With that, Rick walked off to tend to his crops.  
“I forgot somethin’ in my cell. Meet’cha back ‘ere in a minute,” Lace explained before jogging back into the cellblock. The brunette received odd looks as she ran through the building but ignored them. It wasn’t the first time she had been subject to gossip and certain looks. She rounded the corner and tossed her curtain aside. On her bed, just where she had left it earlier that morning, was her Polaroid camera that she had found on a recent run to an electronics store. Beside it lay a photo album she had been filling with pictures that she took. She placed the album under her pillow, out of sight, before turning to leave. The sight in front of her stopped her in her tracks.  
“What was that?” a deep voice asked, pointing to the pillow. Lace blushed a deep shade of red and looked up at the man.   
“It ain’t nothin’,” she said, attempting to go around the tall man.  
“Common. You ‘spect me to believe that?” Rick chuckled and strided over and lifted the pillow. His breath hitched when he saw the cover of the album. Scrawled in Lace’s neat handwriting, it read, “Our New Memories. Love makes family, not blood.” The group leader smiled as he flipped through the pages. He stopped on a page, placing a calloused hand over the picture. A single tear rolled down his cheek. Lace didn’t have to look at the picture to know which one it was.   
One evening after dinner, Rick held baby Judith in his arms. He bounced her as she giggled. After she had finally fallen asleep, he placed a gentle kiss on her still bald head. He hadn’t noticed Lace standing in the doorway so she snapped a picture of the father and daughter.  
“Thank you,” he said, his voice hoarse. Lace gave him a single nod and a smile before leaving the cell to give the bearded man a moment with his thoughts.  
Growing up, Lace’s mother was always taking photos of the family. Most of the time, it wasn’t even for a special event. She told a ten year old Lace about how she didn’t have any photos from when she was growing up. As soon as she learned about being pregnant, she vowed to not make the same mistake. In their small living room back home, there was a bookshelf dedicated to photo albums. There were two or more for each year of Lace’s life up to 2010, when the walkers forced the family from their home.   
After getting settled in at the prison, Lace went on a search for a camera so she could live out her mother’s wish. She hoped that when she returned home, the albums would still be there. 

 

“It’s ‘bout time! I can feel myself ageing’ ‘ere,” Daryl exclaimed from the driver seat of the dirt covered SUV as Lace walked towards him. As she climbed into the taller than normal cab, Daryl started the vehicle. As soon as she slammed the door shut he took off down the rocky driveway. Maggie heaved the first gate open and Carl mirrored her with the second. The SUV sped through both openings, dust rising in its wake.  
Lace watched in the side mirror as the gates closed behind them. She sighed with relief as not a single walker made it into her home. Stripping off her jacket, she settled into the new cloth seats and fastened her seatbelt. Daryl was a crazy driver without the walkers in the middle of the road. She wasn’t taking any chances.  
“What’s that?” Daryl asked, nodding to the camera in her hand. She didn’t answer. Instead, she raised the vintage camera to her eye and snapped a picture of the man beside her. After a few seconds, a square photo slid from the plastic onto her lap and she handed it to him. He studied it before chuckling.   
“What’s the point anymore?” he shook his head and turned his attention back to the road.  
“Just because we lost our old lives, doesn’t mean we can’t capture out new ones,” she explained. He was silent as her words sunk in. 

 

Lace’s heart thumped loudly in her ears, sounding as if her heart was going a million miles an hour. She sucked in a quick breath as she saw the sign. She had passed that sign so many times in her lifetime that she couldn’t begin to count. Now, it was overgrown with weeds and was rusted, but it still hung high for everyone that passes to see. “Welcome to Nelson, Georgia,” it read. “Population 942.” Lace remembered the day they had crossed out the one and written in a two after Mrs. Johnson had her first baby girl. She had tried for years. Each time, she hoped for a girl but was given a boy. She had nine children by the time little Macy was born.  
Thick forest surrounded them on all sides. Every now and then, a squirrel would scurry up a tree, a walnut bigger than its head held in its furry mouth. There wasn’t a single walker in sight.  
“Turn left here,” Lace managed to keep her voice even as she pointed to an underbrush covered driveway. The large tires of the car crunched on the gravel. They drove in silence for a few miles.   
The thick woods opened up into an extremely large clearing. Tall grass stretched as far as the eye could see. Daryl stopped the vehicle, blocking the driveway. In the middle of the land sat a large, two story farm house. The man took his crossbow from the back seat and held it tightly as he exited the cab. Lace followed his lead, knife in hand. They began to walk towards the house in silence.  
“How come you left?” Daryl asked, his rough voice sending chills down Lace’s body.   
“Same reason you guys left Hershel’s farm. A herd came through and we were too outnumbered,” Lace explained, swallowing the lump that formed in her throat. They were a few hundred yards from the house when several twigs snapped behind them. Both survivors spun on their heels, weapons raised.   
They were greeted by the rotting faces of thirty walkers dragging their feet towards them. Lace took her fighting stance: knife raised, feet shoulder width apart, left hand outstretched to grasp the walker before driving her knife into its skull. The herd was getting closer with every passing second.  
Daryl placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, spinning her to face him. He shook his head. “Run,” was all he said before they both took off towards the house. There were just too many. Heavy soled boots pounded against the snow covered ground. Together, the two adults ran side by side.  
A flash in Lace’s right referral vision drew her attention. Daryl fell to the ground with a loud grunt; his foot disappeared into a large hole in the ground. Lace skidded to a stop and ran to him. He struggled to stand, his ankle giving under his weight. Lace wrapped her arm around his waist with his arm around her shoulders. He was about to protest when he glanced at the large herd of walkers shuffling towards them. Daryl hobbled along, a fast as he dared.   
The herd was getting closer; their outstretched hands just missed Daryl and Lace’s backs. Lace quickened her pace as much as she dared. After climbing the three steps to the porch that wrapped around the house, she kicked the door open, ushering him through first. She slammed it closed behind them, clicking the dead bolt shut. The curtains were all closed and covered by two by fours. They were safe.  
As they entered the family room just off the entry way, Daryl fell onto the couch. Lace unsheathed her knife, holding it tight in her small hand. “I’m gunna go check the rest o’the house. You stay put or I’ll have’ta tie you up,” she said, giving him a hard glare. He sheepishly nodded and bent to unlace his boots.  
The brunette searched each of the many rooms for walkers. She came across a total of seven lurking in different rooms. Only a few actually heard the couple come into the house. It took little effort to put them down. The other five were trapped in the basement, unable to open the door. She sent a silent thank you to her father who was suppose to fix the door which was always swinging shut on its own but had never done it. She slid a heavy table from the hallway in front of the door just to make sure and decided to come back when Daryl could help her.  
Proud of herself, she made her way to the bathroom downstairs and retrieved the first aid kit her mother stored there. The red plastic was cool in her hands as she entered the living room.   
Lace knelt in front of the sleepy man and studied his ankle. She pulled his sock from his foot, causing his to hiss in pain. He glared at the young woman but still allowed her to place it on a pillow to keep it elevated. “It’s just a sprain. You should be kicking ass by morning,” Lace explain, sitting on the other end, his foot in her lap.   
“Thanks. I owe you,” he mumbled, his eyes focused on a hole in his jeans.   
“Yeah you do,” she replied, chuckling softly.


End file.
